I went to the movies yesterday with Syd and saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona. It was a good picture, full of beautiful shots, well-written, engaging. Plenty of good-looking people getting it on, for those who want to see that and lovely scenery for those who pretend they don’t. And it was depressing.

At various points in the film, I felt like slapping pretty much every character, from Vicky, who has chosen a conventional path and is going to stick with it no matter what, to Cristina, who is in love with her image of herself as an alternative person, a seeker, to Juan Antonio the self-indulgent artist, to the minor characters like the various husbands, friends, and relatives.

One thing the movie didn’t do was punt. It didn’t hold out the false hope that Something Else is out there, something better, if one just follows one’s heart. We’re all pretty much doomed to live out the limits of our characters, according to this film’s view. Which is tragic and depressing, but at least honest.